


Mistletoe

by RuArcher (Coriesocks)



Series: Shipmas 2018 [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Butterbeer (Harry Potter), Christmas Fluff, Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson Friendship, F/F, M/M, Minor Luna Lovegood/Pansy Parkinson, Mistletoe, Nargles, Past Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Shipmas 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 09:55:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16951833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coriesocks/pseuds/RuArcher
Summary: Pansy and Luna come over for drinks and Draco learns something new.





	Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> Shipmas fic number five! only a day late :)  
> For the prompt: The Quibbler’s Guide to Avoiding Nargles in your Mistletoe

Pansy strode along the corridor, her eye-wateringly high stilettos clacking on the hardwood floor. Draco followed behind—she’d visited Grimmauld Place enough times that he didn’t need to show her around—and then nearly ploughed right into her when she stopped abruptly in the doorway to the living room. He muttered under his breath and went to push past her to get to the mini bar in the corner, but was brought up short again when she slowly stepped forward and turned around.

“Draco, what in the name of all that is good and holy has happened to this room.”

“We decorated.”

“No. No no no, this isn’t decoration. This is…this is an _atrocity_. There’s no theme! It’s completely lacking cohesion! How could you let this happen?”

He winced. She was right, it was a chaotic mess of lights, tinsel, and unmatched decorations—half of which were broken—but he’d sort of gotten used to it over the past few days. And Harry’s face when he would lovingly turn a raggedy old bauble over in his hands, lost to memory, was enough to make Draco forget about the affront to his eyes. “Traditions?” he shrugged, aiming for nonchalance. He wasn’t about to admit to Pansy that he kind of liked it. “It’s Harry’s thing. I had very little input,” he added dismissively.

Pansy tutted. “That certainly explains a lot.” She gave the room one more assessing gaze and then glared at him. “You’ve changed Draco. I’m not sure I like it.”

“Yes, you do,” Draco sighed, rolling his eyes. Honestly, she could be so dramatic sometimes. “Now stop lurking in the doorway like a hoary old strumpet and come and get drunk with me.”

She tipped her head back and laughed. “Now, that sounds more like it. Don’t try and fob me off with any of your cheap shit. Top shelf or fuck off.” 

“Absolutely,” he agreed readily. He usually left the good stuff alone when it was just him and Harry, especially since that time when Draco had cracked open a Chateau Guiraud from an exquisite vintage _as a treat_ and Harry had added soda water to his glass because he didn’t want a hangover for work the next day. Draco had vowed never to let Harry near a decent vintage again.

As Pansy draped herself over the Chesterfield, he summoned his house-elf, Greta (who had already made herself quite at home at Harry’s), to fetch the wine, and went to grab a couple of glasses out of the cabinet. “Do you think perhaps we should wait for Luna and Harry to get back from the takeaway?” he asked as he generously filled their glasses.

They glanced at each other and it was like they were twenty-somethings again as they fell about giggling uncontrollably.

———

Luna and Harry appeared a short while later, but Draco was already halfway done with his glass. It was only takeaway so they didn’t bother with the dining room, preferring to eat with plates balanced on their laps. Pansy grumbled a little about being forced to eat supper like a barbarian but a quiet word in her ear by Luna was enough to soothe her. Draco realised then that there had been some truth in her statement about him changing because before meeting Harry, he probably would have baulked at the thought of balancing his dinner on his knees. But as with most things these days, his and Harry’s different ways of doing something had blended and evolved into a compromise. At least they used plates now; Harry used to prefer eating straight from the takeaway containers. It still baffled Draco that a not-quite-forty-year-old wizard who’d been practising magic for almost thirty years could still be concerned with ‘not creating extra washing up’.

Listening to Harry, Luna, and Pansy chat companionably around him, Draco reflected on how much his life had changed in the last year or two, and how it was all down to his son’s friendship with Albus Potter. If those two hadn’t become best friends, if they hadn’t almost torn apart the world and brought about a new age of dark magic, then he and Harry would never have become so close. He sometimes worried whether Astoria would be happy for him, but he was fairly certain she would be—she’d never liked to see him mope and so she’d probably be delighted he’d found someone who made him so happy. The sex was bloody fantastic too. Twenty-year-old Draco's mind would have blown if he'd known that his sex life would actually improve so close to forty.

He stared at the multi-coloured twinkling lights of their ridiculous tree and was filled with fondness for the ugly thing and the mishmash of treasured memories that filled its branches. He looked forward to the new traditions they would create together as a family and he didn’t even care if that made him a sentimental old fool. He hoped this—Pansy and Luna coming over for pre-Christmas drinks—would become one of their new traditions. They could get Blaise involved too, and maybe even Hermione and Ron. Draco would never admit it to Harry, but he rather enjoyed their company these days.

“So, have you told the children yet?” Pansy asked, her nasally voice cutting straight through his thoughts and jolting him back to the conversation in the room.

Draco cut his eyes guiltily at Harry, who was choking on a mouthful of Butterbeer cocktail. While most of their close friends were aware of their relationship, they’d wanted to wait and see if things would become serious before involving the children, and they couldn't do that if their relationship became common knowledge so they’d gone to great lengths to keep it out of the press. Neither of them wanted to upset the children by having their fathers’ love lives splashed across the front pages of the papers (the speculations about Harry’s involvement with every witch or wizard he glanced at were bad enough). Now, though, with Harry’s suggestion that they move in together hanging over their heads, they knew couldn’t avoid the big reveal for much longer. 

“No…we, um. We thought it was more of a face-to-face conversation,” Harry said once he’d stopped spluttering. Draco quickly nodded his agreement as Pansy’s disapproving glare came his way.

“They have no idea? But it’s been going on for months! You’re moving in together! Surely they must be a little suspicious.” Luna softly placed a hand on Pansy’s leg, rubbing circles into her knee and Draco could see her reel her irritation at him back in. He knew why she was upset. She doted on Scorpius and didn’t want to see him hurt, but she had to understand that Draco felt the same; that this was why he'd kept it from Scorpius for so long—his son would have been crushed if they’d told him too soon and then had everything fall apart around them. 

“In my defence,” Draco started in an attempt to deflect Pansy’s ire from Harry, “I didn’t _know_ Harry was going to invite Scorpius and me to move in with him, or I might have brought the subject up sooner.”

“It was an accident!” Harry cried.

Draco glared at him. “Oh, so you _don’t_ want us to move in? That’s just bloody wonderful. When were you going to let me know? Before or after I turn up on your doorstep with all my possessions?” 

“Come on, Draco, you know I didn’t mean it like that. Please.” Harry reached across the sofa for his hand, but he wasn’t in the mood to be placated so he scooted away and turned his back. Bloody Potter.

“And just how else am I meant to take it when you loudly proclaim you accidentally asked me to move in with you?” 

“Draco—” 

“Sweet Circe’s tits. How the pair of you survived this long I’ll never know,” Pansy snapped.

“Christmas. We’re telling them at Christmas.” Harry stated firmly, shuffling along the sofa and wrapping an arm around Draco’s resisting shoulders. “Draco and Scorpius are coming over to the Burrow so we’ll do it then…or just before. Probably best to get it over with without an audience of Weasleys.”

“Including your ex-wife,” Draco muttered.

“Oh, how wonderful.” Luna beamed. “I love big family Christmases.”

Draco reluctantly relaxed into Harry’s one-armed hug. It was hard to stay cross with him, especially now he was becoming more used to his tendency to speak before engaging his brain. He would be having words later though; no need to air their dirty laundry in front of guests.

———

After the minor hiccough with the moving-in discussion, the rest of the night went smoothly. They all drank far too much expensive wine and horribly sickly Butterbeer cocktails, and by the time it was ready to call it a night, Draco was full of warm, fuzzy feelings for everyone. Pansy even drunkenly confessed to having fallen for the ‘utterly batty’ charm of their Christmas decorations, which Draco hoped he would remember in the morning because he needed to extract that memory and preserve it for future blackmail opportunities.

Draco hugged Pansy goodbye, then turned to bid farewell to Luna as Harry released her from his hug. He never knew quite how to behave around her—it often felt like those wide, blue eyes of hers could peer directly into his soul and it slightly unnerved him—so he patted her awkwardly on the head since his intoxicated brain decided that was an appropriate way to behave.

Luna smiled up at him, accepting the head-pat without question and even seeming to enjoy it. “Don’t forget to save the corks,” she said after reaching up on her tip toes and patting Draco on _his_ head.

He frowned, and glance at Pansy for a translation but she was too busy smothering a laugh with her hand, the evil bint. “What?” he asked.

“The corks. For the Nargles,” Luna replied without a hint of frustration or impatience. It was almost as if she was used to no one having a clue what she was talking about.

Draco turned to Harry, hoping for some help. “Harry. I don’t want to alarm you, but I think I may be a little drunk. I hear words but they make no sense.”

“Nargles!” Harry grinned. He was clearly sloshed too and not even trying to hide it.

“You can say the word as many times as you like but I’m still flummoxed.”

“Oh Draco, surely you know that a Butterbeer cork necklace is the only way to protect yourself against the Nargles in your mistletoe,” Pansy said with a smirk.

“The Nargles in my mistletoe?” He could hear Harry sniggering, but elected to ignore him and made a mental note to punish him later.

“It’s quite alright. Pansy told me that you and Harry don’t read the Quibbler—“ that shut Harry up, Draco thought smugly as his boyfriend turned red and suddenly looked very shifty “—so I doubt you read our latest advice column on avoiding Nargles in your mistletoe, but I can owl you a copy if you like. I would hate for them to interfere with your beautiful decorations or cause anything untoward to happen to your home.”

Draco eyed the mistletoe suspiciously. He’d never heard of these _Nargles_ but if Grimmauld Place had a pest infestation, he wanted to know how to deal with it. “Thank you, Luna. That would be most helpful,” he said politely, much to Pansy and Harry’s continued amusement.

As soon as the green of the Floo faded back to warm yellows and oranges, Draco turned to Harry.

“What the fuck is a Nargle and why is your house apparently infested with them? I feel this is the sort of thing you need to warn someone about before they move in. I know a very good magi-pest controller. If there is a problem we need to get it fixed immediately!” he yelled.

Harry laughed at him. Laughed! “Come on, Draco. Let’s go to bed and I’ll tell you all about the Nargles in our mistletoe.”

Draco scowled and folded his arms across his chest. “If you think I’m going anywhere near that stuff,” he said, gesturing at the mistletoe hanging in the doorway, "then you've got another think coming."

Harry _Vanished_ the offending greenery, then turned to Draco and smirked. “Bed, now,” he ordered, his stern tone sending a shiver down Draco's spine. “I know just what to do to help take your mind off the Nargles.”

Another involuntary shiver ran down Draco’s spine and he huffed, not wanting to seem too eager. “Well, if you insist.” 

———

Harry was right, of course; he _did_ manage to make Draco forget all about Nargles, although Draco would never be able to look at another piece of mistletoe in the same way again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Find me on tumblr @ [coriesocks](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/coriesocks)


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